


Summer fics 2015

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Holidays, Kissing, M/M, Spacedogs, alternate finale ending, hannibloom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4789277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four short fics i wrote on holidays as a present for a few lovely friends</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spoiled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ferris_Eris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferris_Eris/gifts), [Mads_Hugh_Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mads_Hugh_Lover/gifts), [abigail_frank](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail_frank/gifts).



“It’s beautiful” Will says breathlessly, smiling at Hannibal.

It really is beautiful. Will finally embraced the dark part living within him. Hannibal couldn’t be more proud and elated.

Lecter feels Will grasp for his arm, hesitantly at first, then confidently squeezing. It resembles hunger, craving for intimacy with a person he shares almost everything with. This hunger is mirrored in Lecter’s eyes.

Will leans against Hannibal and supports his head on Lecter’s chest. Their bodies are covered in still warm blood of the Dragon.

Fire is extremely symbolic in their situation. The hunger, the power, the lust. The desires they share.

Will lifts his head and looks at Hannibal. They smile at each other.

Will is aware of Lecter’s weakness for him and he is going to take advantage of that knowledge. He still somewhat hesitates but he knows what he has to do to stop the madness.

Will looks into Hannibal’s eyes and notices the man is looking at his lips. Will uses the remains of the adrenaline to let himself give in. Their lips hover over each other.

There have been a few moments Will shared with Hannibal when he thought the man was going to kiss him. None felt more nor less real than this one.

But this time Lecter has one hand tangled in Will’s bloody shirt and Will is grasping at Hannibal’s arm and waist. No better opportunity. There will be no next opportunity.

Will moves a bit closer and closes the distance between them. His eyes are still open, contrary to Lecter’s, who seems to be lost in the moment. It doesn’t last long and Will pulls back. He puts his arm around Hannibal’s neck, almost regretting his decision. He is about to pull them both right into the ocean, when Hannibal’s grip on him tightens.

“Don’t” Lecter whispers.

Will’s pupils dilate.

“I’m ready. But are you?” Hannibal asks.

More than he’ll ever be, Will thinks. He knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he may never do it. He may never have another chance.

He doesn’t have time for hesitation now. _This is wrong_. Can he afford withdrawing?

He feels a tear escape his eye and a warm wet hand wipe it away. This would be like Romeo and Juliet. Will snorts at his own comparison. This is supposed to be tragic, this is supposed to _end_. They can’t go on like this, they don’t deserve a happy ending. They deserve closure.

“What if I am?” Will challenges.

“You know I’ll jump with you” Hannibal smiles.

Will blinks. Who else would ever offer him such a wholehearted recognition?

Will looks at the waves gathering by the cliff. What if they survive? Is there a chance for them to survive? Or for one of them? They can’t live without each other.

“I have so much to offer you, Will. And even more now, that you accepted yourself fully. Will you let me spoil you?”

Will looks away, at Dolarhyde’s cooling body.

“…we know in those moments they are not flesh, but light, and air, and color…”

Will bites his lip, tastes Hannibal again and closes his eyes. He’ll let himself be spoiled.


	2. Holidays

“Come on, Adam” Nigel yells from a twenty metres distance.

Adam is sitting on the shore in his swim shorts, watching the waves. He knows so much about space, yet the sea is a mystery to him. He’s sitting on the hot sand; a basket with a bottle of water and a sun cream next to him.

The water with no limit, no barrier on the horizon – it’s overwhelming.

“Adam!”

He hears his name called out again and sees Nigel approach him. The man appears like Aphrodite from the sea. Adam smiles at the thought and his cheeks go a bit pink.

Nigel is wet, hairy, manly. He’s the man version of Aphrodite. He sits next to Adam and places an arm around the smaller man.

“Stop it! You’re wet” Adam tries to break free from the hold.

“I’m always wet for you, baby” Nigel says with a smirk but withdraws the arm. He doesn’t want to upset Adam.

“Come on, you came by the sea. Aren’t you going to even check the temperature of the water?”

“I already did. It’s cold”

“At the beginning. It gets warmer after a moment” Nigel reassures.

“It doesn’t get warmer. Your organism adjusts” Adam corrects.

“All right, all right. Come with me” Nigel pressures and stands up, extending his hand to Adam.

“I can’t swim” Adam says.

Nigel laughs at the confession.

“So fucking smart and can’t swim”

Adam doesn’t seem amused. He seems ashamed.

“I can teach you” Nigel offers seriously.

“I don’t want to” Adam crosses his arms against his chest.

“I don’t want to swim alone. I want to have fun with you” Nigel says.

He kisses Adam’s nose and smiles.

“Come. You don’t have to swim. Just step into the water. Hold my hand”

Adam looks at Nigel from under his sunglasses. They are a weird couple. Nigel is tanned, muscular and confident. How exactly did he end up with Adam, who is thin, shy and white as snow? Adam is curious about the answer. He looks at the hand stretched towards him and he breaks. He grabs the hand and stands up. Nigel smiles at him and they make the first step into the sea together. Adam gasps as the water washes over his feet.

“It’s cold”

“Your organism will adjust” Nigel winks at Adam.

The further they go, the stronger is Adam’s grip on Nigel’s hand. Nigel won’t push Adam. If he decides to go back and sit on the shore, Nigel won’t stop him. But he wishes Adam would follow him.

They stop when the water reaches Adam’s waist. Nigel looks at his boyfriend, checking if it’s okay to go a bit further. Probably not today.

Nigel steps close to Adam and kisses his nose again. He strokes Adam’s arms and the man shivers as Nigel’s hands are wet.

“I love you, baby” Nigel says and his hands disappear under the water, grab Adam’s butt.

“Nigel!”

Nigel laughs and then leans closer to place a kiss on Adam’s cheek.

“I love you” Nigel whispers.

Adam blushes, feeling the hands still on his buttocks and the warm, dry lips on his skin. He knows Nigel is honest.

“I love you, too” Adam says shyly and Nigel smiles at him.

They don’t know who is the first to close their eyes but they both lean in and kiss.

The sun is high above them and it’s their first day on holidays.

Who knows, maybe Adam will let Nigel teach him how to swim.


	3. Weakness

Will opens his eyes. They feel heavy as if the eyelids were glued to the eyeballs.

He doesn’t move; he just looks. The familiar wall paint, the windows and the door. Everything he knows so well. The space heater with plenty of room for seven dogs to curl up by; Will knows _that_ from experience.

He looks at the door for a few long seconds, partly wishing no one came through it so that it could all turn out to be a dream or the heaven he doesn’t deserve.

He moves finally – stirs a little on the bed and knows it’s real. The pain in his shoulder and the pain in his cheek gives it all away. He remembers the night of his demise. The ‘fake’ escape with Hannibal, the slay of the Dragon, the fall. Did they really fall?

Will can’t remember hitting the surface of the water; can’t remember anything wet besides the blood.

He reaches for his hurting cheek and feels stitches. His stubble hasn’t been trimmed for some time. He moves up to sit on the bed and sees what he’s wearing – a navy blue cotton pyjamas; not one of his own.

There is none of his pieces of clothing left in the house. In fact, there is nothing of his left in the house. He took all he needed two years ago and the rest went for sale or was probably robbed. The house didn’t sell, apparently, so it still belongs to the estate agency.

Will moves his legs to stand up. He places his feet on the floor and only now does he feel like everything was spinning. He looks around and feels sick. He tries to stand and stabilize his sight. He blinks a few times. His stomach feels funny.

Will approaches the door and hesitates before opening it. He doesn’t want to face the reality, he doesn’t want it to be real.

He turns the knob and steps outside the house. First, he sees a dark silhouette ghosting over the porch rails. Then the shadow becomes a blot and the blot turns into a person. No, not a person, something more and something less than a person.

“I feel sentimental towards this house” Hannibal says, turning to Will.

Will always felt the same, though a house is just a house, a building. And after the gray period in his life, Will decided to sell this particular building, to cut ties with it.

“You did it again” Will says, looking back at the house “You rescued me, treated me, clothed me and left me in my own bed”

Lecter smiles.

“I’ll always bring you home”

“Home” Will repeats “They say home is where the heart is”

“Where is your home, then?” Hannibal asks, knowing the answer all too well.

“I’m homeless. Heartless, soulless; even the reason took a different course. You are all I have”

Hannibal looks at Will, searching for any discomfort, either physical or psychological. There is none.

“That’s what you wanted” Will adds, a bit quieter “I’m wondering whether that was what I wanted, too”

Will noticed that Lecter is mostly silent.

“Do we deserve to survive?” Graham asks.

“We did”

Hannibal lifts hi hand, places it on Will’s cheek.

“Do you wish for a different ending for us?”

“I did”

“And now?”

“Now…” Will looks around “Can we stay here?”

“We can. But we probably shouldn’t”

“They won’t find our bodies. They’ll keep looking for us. We need to leave. Would they expect us to be so stuoid as to come here?”

“That’s where I surrendered once. They may wish I did so again”

“But you won’t”

“As long as you keep chasing” Hannibal smiles.

“I’m not chasing you anymore”

“No. You chose to run away with me”

Will leans on the porch rails next to Hannibal.

“So… where do we go now?”

“How about Buenos Aires?”

Will raises his eyebrows.

“Ever been there?”

“Once, very briefly. I’d like to explore it further. With you”

Will smiles gently.

“How’s your side?”

Lecter doesn’t show the wound; he looks at the field in front of them.

“It’s no reason to worry”

“I bet you were on the cloud nine when you saw Freddie Lounds’ article that called us ‘murder husbands’”

“Did it make you uncomfortable that she compared our relationship to the institution of marriage?”

“We’re not married. But I suppose there are some similarities between our relationship and the one of married people”

“Was your wife and yours relationship similar to ours?”

Will snorts. _Not a bit._ He was lucky to have found Molly, someone who accepted, or at least tolerated, his lever of weird. She may have even thought they had something in common. But Will would never be happy there, never again fully satisfied, not after Hannibal.

“It had advantages”

Hannibal nods. Sure it had. Otherwise Will would have remained alone, single. Things were easier that way. You don’t disappoint anyone, you don’t get disappointed.

“We both pretended to take a bride while the one we loved was away”

“ _You_ pretended to take a bride”

“Have you ever felt a sting of jealousy of dr du Maurier?”

Will looks away. He has.

“She helped me realise what I felt, what you felt”

“I let her peek behind my human veil when we were in Florence”

“Do you intend to eat her now?”

“Would you join at the table or would you ask me to stop? ‘If you love me, stop’”

“Never. Not in a thousand years. I’d never ask you to stop”

Hannibal smiles.

“Not in a thousand years” he repeats.

Will looks at Hannibal; at the man’s cheeks,, eyes, lips. He doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to ask about Alana, Molly, about their fall.

Will lifts his hand and Lecter’s arm. It’s cold outside and Will is only wearing a pair of pyjamas.

“You’re shivering” Hannibal observes.

But it’s not the cold. Not only. Not entirely.

“She told me you were in love with me” Will says gently, stroking Lecter’s cheek.

“Were you afraid when she confirmed what you knew all along?”

“I wanted to take advantage of your weakness” Will admits.

Hannibal smiles, so proud of his mongoose. Will leans closer and puts his thumb on Lecter’s lower lip.

“Were you afraid when you realised what you felt? Have you ever tried to deny it?” Will asks.

“You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love. You can only wish the person reciprocate”

Their lips hover over each other, Will’s eyes almost closed, heavy. Hannibal makes the connection and Will feels the man’s soft, dry and a little cold lips on his.

So much about weakness.


	4. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _dla Justyny_

The kiss was not unexpected. Actually, it was anticipated. On both sides.

He was her mentor and she perceived him as a stable island on the ocean of madness.

Will let her down  on multiple levels – as a friend, a colleague, even as a human being. He wrapped his head around Lecter, and was so determined to prove any other version than embracing that he was responsible for all the murders, he wanted to kill Hannibal.

Alana spends a few nights a week at Hannibal’s. He invites her for dinner or she wants to consult him. Anyway, they tend to end up in bed, during or after. It’s either too late for her to go home or they start kissing and the rest is almost habitual.

The sex is passionate, he never leaves her unsatisfied and neither does she.

Should something more come out of their arrangement, she’d be happy. It’s convenient, comfortable.

He often goes down on her, gets a taste of her sweetness, the most intimate piece of her flesh. He teases her, bites gently. His tongue tends to warm up before he looks up at her, offer a mischievous smirk and gets down to work.

He laps at her clitoris and drinks her juices. The rough surface of his tongue enters her; she tenses the muscles in her thighs. He’s too good at this and sometimes she wonders how many, exactly, have experienced what she’s experiencing now.

He doesn’t offer her much time before he withdraws, licks his lips and kisses her inner thigh. _That’s_ her favourite moment. When he leaves her pent up only to move up, grab a small plastic packet and roll on the condom.

She spreads her legs, wider, inviting him. Hannibal kisses her and then and then they both gasp as he enters her for the first time that night. She always wants to laugh at their unison. He never lets her.

He kisses her lips, bares his teeth – a predator playing with his prey. He stays insider her as his lips trace a path from her chin, down her neck and finally her nipple again.

There is often _some_ kind of foreplay, be it five minutes of making out or half an hour of them gently caressing each other’s bodies.

He pulls out, slowly, and then pushes inside again, enjoying her wet invitation. She gasps and he groans. She enjoys the noises he makes more than any foreplay. He moans, groans and breathes heavily and it’s enhanced by his peculiar accent. Hannibal’s voice is very manly, strong and heavy; she noticed it on the first day she met him.

Lecter kisses her again and she feels his chest moving against her breasts, short curly hair brushing her nipples. His slightly swollen belly presses against her and she enjoys the warm weight.

He looks her in the eyes, smiles and pulls away the hair from her forehead. She likes when he’s gentle and subtle just before he thrusts into her again and again.

He strokes her arms and kisses the corner of her lips. His moves become less calculated. She knows he’s close. She catches his mouth and kisses him passionately – a silent mutual agreement. She hears him groan and smiles into the kiss.

They are both breathless. It won’t last long. He thrusts again and his mouth hangs open in sweet release. He arches his back slightly and collapses onto her, his head next to hers. He turns to kiss her cheek and she smiles.

He never lies still for long and if she needs encouragement to come, he’s happy to help. He pulls out of her and gets rid of the condom. When he returns, she’s waiting for him, lying like a cat and watching him. He kisses her, teasing teeth against her lips. Then he moves down, his lips caress every second inch of her body. He gets to her navel and she supresses a laugh. It tickles; he’s aware of that. But he likes teasing her, giving enough to make her interested in his game.

She gets impatient and entangles her hands in his dishevelled hair. He laughs. He kisses her pubic hair and then the crook where the thigh meets the pelvis. He starts stroking her clitoris with his thumb and enters her with his forefinger. Her breathing gets shallow again and as much as she loves the game, as much as she doesn’t want to give in, she can’t hold on much longer.

He dives to kiss her entrance and taste her orgasm. Then he grabs the duvet and covers them both. She rests her head against his stretched arm and she plays with his chest hair; she enjoys it very much. Another sign of his manliness.

When she stays, they have breakfast together and split to work.

When she leaves, he kisses her goodbye and always calls to make sure he drove safely home.

Safe – that’s the most proper word for their relationship.


End file.
